The Oncoming Storm
by gripsyched
Summary: A collection of oneshots and drabbles revolving around Haruka and Michiru.
1. The Oncoming Storm

The oncoming storm

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: "-not the ocean." Michiru has to visit a special place.

AN: This will be a collection of Haruka-and-Michiru centered oneshots and drabbles because I figured that it would be so much easier for you guys instead of me posting random oneshots all around the place :D Here's the first oneshot of the series yay :D This is based on a headcanon that Michiru used to learn ballet- because of her shoes when she transformed into Neptune woah :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon or its characters thank you :D

Enjoy!

* * *

"Can I ask a favor from you?" Michiru mutters, barely coherent.

You turn to look at her. She has been silent throughout the entire journey home from the Temple. She does not face you, and instead stares out of the car windows. You nod.

"Michi?" You ask, softly, gently- hoping that she won't resort to the _promise_ again.

There are now cases of more demons- in the form of _sailor soldiers_- looming over the cities. The world is about to face great destruction from the master of those demons. You wonder if the final enemy was something similar to god- _your_ maker. The creator of all sailor soldiers- the one that carved you out of destiny's frilly lace (with your hideous yellow bow and all-too-short skirt) and made you kill. The one that granted you the Talisman, and the duty to the Messiah.

The one, that granted you Michiru, too.

"Please. There's somewhere I need to go." She tilts her head- catches your eye, and adds with a smile, "-not the ocean."

You nod, again. There is something different this time. Not the ocean? Was there any other sanctuary that Michiru took solace in? You realise that even _you,_ Michiru's partner, have been blinded by Michiru's alter ego, Sailor Neptune- for you cannot start to associate Michiru Kaiou with anything else other than love, ocean, paint and violin. And her everyday cup of tea that she sips while glancing out into the horizon.

(Michiru once tried to explain the romance of the horizon to _you_, but the conversation was forgotten as you swept her off her feet (quite literally) and brought her to the bedroom.)

After offering you a list of instructions, Michiru sinks back into her seat, and sighs. The journey is spent in silence- silence that you hate so much, and silence that Michiru drowns herself in. The world is coming to an end- even _you_ don't need any precognitive sense to tell you that- and right now, you're spending whatever's left of your time together in silence. You could ask her all about herself, you could tell her about that time when you threw all of your dresses into the fireplace when you were eight, you could ask if she's alright. You could, but you don't; you've never needed any words from the beginning.

You remember when Michiru threw herself in front of you- the first time you saw her for what she was. The first time you embraced your destiny- the first time you realised what it meant to be a soldier. She spoke about what she thought of you- she sputtered out _everything_ in a frantic and hasty manner, as though you would disappear.

"That," she said (once, when you recounted the familiar tale to her), "-was like the calm before the storm."

And now- this silence that wraps its silky arms around the both of you- is _your_ 'calm-before-the-storm'. You could tell her that you love her. You could, but you don't; to do so would be to insult yourselves- do you not trust each other to know that _already_?

Michiru's hand wraps around your own- and you realise you've been gripping onto the steering wheel far too tightly.

* * *

You arrive outside a rundown studio. You start to unbuckle your seatbelt, but Michiru stops you.

"Stay," she murmurs pleadingly, and doesn't say why.

So you stay.

"I won't be long."

You nod.

She hesitates, but smiles- "Thank you."

You smile back, but unbuckle your seatbelt anyway.

* * *

A few minutes pass, and restlessness (not irritation- mind you, never irritation when it came to Michiru) bites at your hands. You decide not to stay, and move out of the car, into the studio.

The studio is not what you would have expected.

There are peeling murals on the walls, and faded tiles lining the hallway. Some of the doors are hanging from their hinges, and others are long gone. The light flickers- you wonder if Michiru was pranking you- and the whole setting is that of the poignant introduction to a horror movie. So you listen, and follow the sounds of a feet brushing and tapping on the ground. It brings you to a door.

The sight is not what you would have expected to see.

A few mirrors have been removed, and the remaining few are barely cracked. The floor is a little dusty, and you swear you saw some powdered plaster falling from the ceiling. The highlight, however, is Michiru. Michiru. Bare feet. Dancing. Stumbling. She attempts a pirouette, but fails to do so, and falls. You have never seen that side of her before.

Before you know it, you are laughing aloud at the clumsiness of a sea goddess on the dance floor.

"Haruka?" Michiru calls, her voice tinted with slight annoyance.

You try to apologise, but collapse in a fit of laughter again as the sight of a disheveled Michiru faces you. She joins in the laughter.

* * *

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise I took a long time."

"What's this place, Michi?" you ask.

The both of you are seated in the dusty room, cross-legged and facing each other. It is surprisingly peaceful and quiet in here. (Not silent- you can't stand the silence.)

"Silence," Michiru begins to say (and you quirk an eyebrow suspiciously- you thought she said she couldn't read minds). "Silence, is the mind's music."

"Well, I guess I can tell my mind to lay off the DJ application list." You make an attempt at a feeble joke.

"This…" she pauses. "This is a dance studio for children. I used to take ballet here."

"Why here?" Why not the ocean? Why not our house- our bed?

"I just-" Michiru places her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands. "I thought that I wouldn't get another chance."

You are about to comfort her, until she adds wryly, "The place is closing down."

"Ah."

"I mean- my parents wanted me to be graceful. They made me take ballet. Then I had to choose between my violin and ballet. I gave the latter up. I don't think I ever regretted it, but I think my mother- some part of her- she regretted my decision."

Michiru's never talked about her family, so you lean forward a little- torn between finding out more about her, and not taking advantage of her while she submerged herself in nostalgia.

(You stay silent.)

"I don't know why I took the violin. Maybe it's the violin. Maybe it's the violin case. Maybe it's Neptune. Maybe I thought I was meant to take the violin." She shakes her head. "The thing is- once this war is over- we can't return to what we were. And I just think that I should end this all- that I should put a full-stop to this ballet nonsense; so I won't think about what life was like before I became Neptune."

"Michiru…" you mutter, not really knowing what to say.

"Our duty is our life. It's been that way since the day we sworn ourselves to our transformation wands." The blank look on Michiru's face only makes it harder for you to say something reassuring.

"You have me," you choke out, and flinch at how bitter you sound.

"We had other things before we met each other, you know," Michiru says pointedly, her face still hidden by her hair. "It's not easy to forget."

"But you have me," you repeat, with a sense of urgency.

Slowly, she removes her hands from her face, and gazes at you. You realise how jealous, unreasonable and possessive you sound, but there are no words left in your throat to start to say how incredulously unapologetic (and yet apologetic) you are right now.

"Which is why," she murmurs, "I won't regret forgetting."

* * *

AN: I had exams (I still have one more paper to go, but it's Math so I guess I can slack off a little) for the past few days so I wasn't able to write anything :D

Reviews will be greatly appreciated!


	2. Selfishness

Selfishness

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: "You're an idiot, Michi." "I know."- the confrontation after Marine Cathedral (or the lack thereof).

AN: I'm not exactly very proud of this- it turned out quite differently from what I expected. I was thinking along the lines of angry snarling and hollering and yelling and then making up, but I guess that they wouldn't have really done that? I just think that they don't really want to talk about their innermost feelings, because Haruka's all distant and mysterious, while Michiru's afraid- of the duty, the commitment, and of Haruka's reaction to knowing that Michiru really loves her. Sigh I don't think it ended very well? Perhaps more screaming would have done the trick.

Disclaimer: nope I don't I can't even draw like whut okay Sailor Moon is nOT MINE :D

Enjoy!

* * *

We do not talk.

There is nothing left to be said- not after today.

I used to think that we were alright with not speaking, not voicing out our thoughts, because we knew each other so well. Every move was synchronized. We were bound by the red strings of fate and the duty from our past lives- two vastly different personalities came to be one. It sounds cheesy. It sounds terribly cheesy- like your hideous yellow bow and the gem on my green choker. It sounds as cheesy as Sailor Moon, who turned out to be the princess we were supposed to serve.

It sounds as cheesy as the promise we made.

But now, it feels as though the weight of the world rests upon every single word- as though anything we said could be used against us- in the courts of afterlife and of Anubis, the god of death. As though uttering out a single word would make it irretrievable, resolute, and eternal.

I am tired of eternity.

I am tired of fighting- the battles that come one after the other and the useless promises that I force you to make.

I am tired of this new world that will come once all chaos is defeated.

I am defeated.

The sea is stagnant. It will not move until the world is threatened, or until it is pressured into moving. You run, while I can only sit and wait- precisely because this is what I am. (I forget to note that I am tired- of the dilemma that sends my brain whirling into an undersea hurricane. The dilemma of Michiru and Neptune; of Haruka and Uranus.)

The trees blur into a constant shade of green as we speed past them. I am weighing you down, aren't I, Haruka? It never feels like running when I- this big bulky mass of emotions and femininity- am right beside you. And it definitely can't feel like running, right now, when _I'm_ the person you're trying to run from.

(That's what you always do, Haruka- you _run_ and leave _me_ to pick up the pieces.)

"Why," you grit out.

You are clearly frustrated. I don't think I could do anything to calm that down.

"Why?" you ask again- in a muted voice.

You're trying to block your emotions out, but your white knuckles are traitors.

"Why what?" I finally say, glancing out the window.

The nightlife- the skyscrapers, the dim glow of the streetlights and colourful stall vendors blur past us. It creates quite a mural- a blur of colours coming to form something quite impressively… insignificant. Is this what you do, Haruka? Is this how you feel like when you run? That nothing- nothing but the roaring fury inside of your heart matters?

"Why. Did. You. Break. Our. Promise." The staccato is not suiting to your husky voice, Haruka.

I have no answers to this question. "I didn't."

"You did."

"I had a talisman inside of me. I extracted it. The end."

You are silent. The anger still radiates off you in waves. I would like to say something coy and aim innuendoes at you- I would like you to stop being so angry, because _technically_, there is nothing to be angry about. My actions were rightly justified as part of the duty. There is nothing more. There cannot be anything more.

"You shoved me out of the way." Are you going to list out my heroics? Because honestly, Haruka, I didn't do them because I was a _sailor soldier of love and justice_, nor did I do that because I was so self-righteous.

"I did."

"That thing was coming for me. You didn't have to-"

I can see the familiar bend that leads to our apartment. "The promise states that we would only abandon the other if she _fell_. You hadn't fallen. I was preventing something, not administering damage control."

The car jerks to a stop. "You know what I'm talking about, Michiru."

I hate it when you call me that- it almost, _almost_ makes me feel special. I realise that I will have to deal with the bruises on my back- and sigh internally. It's not like I haven't done this before- I've fought for a whole year all by myself- it's just that, I don't want to be alone again. The sea will have to live on so dully without the wind- it's a simple game of being ignorant and having something snatched away from you.

You help me up to your apartment. You dig for a first-aid kit, which I take, and retreat to the safety of the bathroom. I do not dare to come out, not even after the healing cream has dried up. I'm not sure how long more I can keep this façade up. I'm not sure how long it will be before I have to announce that I love you too much to watch you die.

I am tired of the restrictions that the duty brings.

I am tired of the restrictions that I bring to myself- the same ones which you agreed to.

I brace myself for the metaphorical bullets that you will unleash upon me, and exit the bathroom. You are waiting. I place the first-aid kit on the table, and move towards the door.

"We should rest for the night," I say, perhaps a little too soon.

For a moment, I find myself wishing you would stop me. But you don't, and so I leave.

* * *

The morning after, you don't answer your doorbell.

* * *

Noon arrives, and you are still nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Evening is painfully humiliating when the local café's waitress notices that you're not with me.

* * *

Night comes, and I decide to go to the beach. You are not there.

* * *

You are _still_ missing for the rest of the third day.

* * *

Three days have passed. I'm still not sure if I want to find you.

* * *

I play on the violin more frequently- like what I used to do, before I met you. I think I am gaining some sense of normalcy back, no matter how miniscule the degree of sanity is. I will not cry, because there is no sense in something as vague as our partnership. I will not talk to the wind even if it sings and howls for me.

Usagi and her friends came to look for us. Usagi told me to find you- a silly and idealistic plan. I know that you don't want to be found- not by me, at the very least. Perhaps the Messiah, but not me. I tried to let Usagi off gently, but she persisted and gave me her long, and quite useless speech on how love is so important.

I've come to acknowledge that I am in love with you.

Even if it's what that got us stuck in this predicament in the first place.

* * *

Three in the morning, and you come banging on my door. I let you in, only to realise that you are drunk. I try to shut the door on you as soon as I notice the odor on you. You push the door in, and invite yourself into my apartment.

"You are so, so stupid, Michiru Kaiou."

"I know."

"Why didn't you just tell me that you love me?"

"I don't know."

"You're an idiot, Michiru."

"I know." My responses were turning pretty mechanical.

"Why do you know everything except the most important?" You are cute when you're drunk.

"I don't know."

"Tha-at's right. You don't know anything- you could have _gone forever_ and I followed you. I followed you. Why did I follow you?" Your breath stinks, but I don't mind the way you blow air kisses at my neck.

"I don't know." I loosen your tie- and wonder how it would feel like in a different context.

"You're an idiot, Michi." You grab my hand and wave it in front of my face.

"I know."

"I miss you, Michi- why didn't you come find me?"

"I don't know-" and then- "-I missed you too."

You collapse onto the sofa almost immediately.

I stay awake by your side, because I cannot sleep- and because I want to watch you sleep, as the most precious (and final) memory I will have of us; in the living room, peacefully and at ease- instead of hollering half-hearted insults at each other.

At some point- probably five in the morning- I tried to imagine that you weren't sleeping serenely, but dead. I couldn't help but stuff my fist into my mouth and try not to wake you up as the tremors overtook me.

* * *

"Ugh. Hangover." Those were the first two words you groaned out to me, as I made sunny-side-ups for brunch.

You proceeded to go to the toilet, and I busied myself with a cup of tea. When you returned, you looked a little less horrible- but still horrible. For a moment, I thought that we could be like any other couple (except that 1. my feelings were probably unrequited 2. we have a duty to our princess 3. we are not a couple), and this little morning scene cheered me up a little. I got you a cup of water, which you refused to drink- and despite my insistence, went to get a mug of coffee.

"You still haven't told me why."

At this point, I come up with many, many sentences that I could say:

1. I've already told you.

2. I love you.

3. I think I'm in love with you.

4. I'm selfish- that's why I took the blow and everything for you just so that I could die before you. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough- but then again, hey, at least we're done with the mission that we've been so obsessed with.

5. You're still drunk.

But I chose to simply shrug and grab you by the tie. "Do you really need me to tell you why?"

* * *

_omake:_

But I chose to simply shrug. "Do you really need me to tell you why?"

You nod slowly, and take another gulp of the bitter liquid. "I suppose it would make things easier for the both of us, Michiru."

"Then promise me that you'll listen to me, Haruka." You raise an eyebrow suspiciously at that, and I chuckle. "You should know that you're my only friend. The only one that I consider to be worthy of the status. It probably sounds stupid, but I'm going to spell it out that I am in love with you. I can't bear to see your dead and withering corpse in front of me, and hence my little heroic act. I apologise for the inconvenience that it has brought you. As for the promise, I hadn't broken it- not technically."

"I still hate you for that."

"Mmm, that's nice. Hate is a passionate feeling."

"Are you flirting with me, Michiru?"

"Perhaps."

* * *

Reviews will be greatly appreciated! :D


	3. blindness

blindness

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: "I can't even _reach _you, Haruka.": Michiru is left blinded after a little accident with the Mirror.

AN: angst.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon lalala

Enjoy!

* * *

_The Mirror crack'd from side to side―_

* * *

"I am a burden," Michiru declares softly, her fingers tugging at the bandage around her eyes.

Haruka looks up from her wounds, and repeats the words she has said (too) many times, "You're not, Michi."

Michiru stands up from the seat and tries to cross the living room. Her steps are slow and careful― hesitation lingering as her weight shifts cautiously from one foot to the other. Her hands smoothes the air around her in an attempt to find her way to Haruka. She is barely halfway across the room when she gives up and stays rooted in the same spot.

"I can't even _reach_ you, Haruka," she mutters gently.

Haruka merely smiles (before realizing that Michiru can't see it) and crosses the room to reach her, holding the smaller girl in her arms. "I can."

She feels Michiru's fingers tap dancing up her collar, neck, jaw and lips, before placing a finger on them. "I can't even see you, Haruka. I caused you to be wounded."

"I made you hurt yourself the first time, too," Haruka reminds, but silences herself as Michiru presses on.

"That was only _one _time. What if the next time-" a shake of the head- "-I have been blinded, Haruka. The Mirror- my _Talisman_- it _cracked_. I am a handicap. More a hindrance than a help."

"Michiru, I'll protect you-"

"But who's there to watch your back?"

Silence.

"Ruka, Crystal Tokyo is forming soon. I can feel it, even without the Mirror. There mustn't be any mistake― we can't allow for them. I am rendered ineffective and a burden-"

"Don't speak of yourself like that, Michi," Haruka snaps, holding the shaking girl closer to her. "You can't call yourself-"

"I speak the truth." Michiru smiles wistfully, and pulls away. "I am, technically, another obstacle and an _enemy_-"

"Do you want me to _kill_ you?" Haruka says hoarsely, anger trimming at her words.

"Perhaps."

* * *

Setsuna visits. It is timely (like everything revolving around the lady is) and almost a miracle. She pulls Michiru into a room, and locks the door. It is uncalled for, because Haruka had no intention of listening in― until now.

The words passed are softly murmured, but a few snatches of their conversation can be heard.

"...Neptune... replacement... the Mirror..." Michiru's voice is low and hurried.

"...Possible... Haven't you considered... she will not accept it..." Setsuna's voice does not betray her emotions.

"It has to be done... Crystal Tokyo... You know our duty... Princess... have to leave..."

And then grimly, "She will not thank you for this."

Haruka doesn't understand. There are many- too many- people Setsuna could be referring to. She only hopes that perhaps the weight of this specific 'she' could stop Michiru from thinking― her thoughts are too practical for Haruka's liking; like deadweight, pulling her beneath the currents, dragging her six feet under.

"Setsuna," Michiru mutters. "I'm not even sure if I can cry. Is this how it feels like to be dead?"

Setsuna does not reply, and if she is affronted by Haruka's presence when she opens the door, she does not show it. Instead, she nods, and orders Haruka to pay attention to Michiru― in a voice almost pleadingly.

When Haruka enters the room and makes her presence known to Michiru, the latter only tilts her head to face a wall and fake a smile at the blank space. For the entirety of their conversation in that room, Michiru only responds to the blank wall.

Haruka doesn't correct her.

* * *

The second time Haruka is injured― with Michiru standing beside her (bandages still around her eyes), unable to stop the monster from tearing Uranus to pieces― Michiru doesn't say anything. Instead, in the comfort and warmth of their bed, Haruka tightens her hold on Michiru's slender (and far _too_ thin) waist, despite the burning bruises lining up her arms.

Michiru's violin has been left untouched for a week, now.

* * *

They meet up at Rei's temple, and overhear a conversation not meant for their ears.

"So Michiru's blind now?"

"I don't understand... I thought we, soldiers, weren't supposed to have any _disabilities_!"

"Minako-chan!"

"But- it's so _horrible_!"

"But how did the Mirror crack? Why would it crack? It doesn't make sense!"

"There was a horrible power that cracked it, you know!"

"So now Michiru-san's more vulnerable than before?"

"Wait- how does she fight, then? What if a monster attacks?"

"What if someone holds her hostage!"

"We need to protect Michiru-san!"

"I can feel Crystal Tokyo coming up... We need everyone we can to fight... We need to protect _you_, Usagi-chan!"

"B-but!"

"Isn't there anything that could cure her?"

"I'm afraid it's permanent," Michiru states firmly, and the silhouettes of the soldiers in the room stiffen.

Haruka pushes the door open, and helps Michiru in. She bows and apologises for being late― with a perfectly polite smile tugging at her lips.

"Usagi-san," Michiru begins to say, glancing at where she thought the Princess would be seated at.

"I'm over here, Michiru-san!"

"Ah."

The silence that conquers the room a few moments after is sharp and loud enough to let everyone know that the wrong thing_s_ have been said. Michiru does not look embarrassed, as she adorns that same stiff and polite smile― but when Haruka takes her hand and squeezes it lightly, she can feel Michiru's hand trembling. Everyone busies themselves with their cups of tea, and for once, Michiru doesn't drink hers. Not until a giddy and flustered Minako asks her why, does she reply (with an easy voice and a casual wave of her hand),

"Minako-san, I wouldn't like to knock the tea cup over and cause a mess."

Haruka brings her cup to her hands, but even so, Michiru is almost reluctant and apprehensive to take hold of the tiny porcelain cup.

* * *

"Bring me to the beach." A pause. "Please, Haruka."

The bandages have been removed, and Michiru keeps her eyes shut― taking care not to open them unnecessarily (not after the last time when a child saw her damaged irises and called _her_ a _freak_). Haruka places a kiss on her forehead, and carries her to her car.

Michiru hates being handled like a child, and hates being unaware of her surroundings. But she endures it, knowing that Haruka has probably endured playing babysitter and being at the end of her misery. She also endures it because this is the final lap. The last stretch.

They reach the beach, and Michiru finds herself feeling the wind. She tries to imagine the look of the horizon, in all its golden and pink glory (it reminds her of Usagi at times-), fading into the warm blueness of the sea and the light baby blue that paints the sky. She tries to imagine the look of the ripples dancing on the sea, and the gentle, subtle transition from blue to yellow at the edge of the shore. She tries to imagine the look of Haruka's gentle and amused smile when her lover finds her staring hopelessly at the water's calming waves.

She tries― but her mind is a clear blank.

"Haruka," Michiru mumbles. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Then leave me."

"What?"

"I think I want to be alone." Michiru's reply is hardly an explanation, but Haruka takes it― and leaves (but not before pressing her lips the _hollow_ of Michiru's- throat).

A few steps away from her lover, Haruka turns back― only to see Michiru stepping into the sea. She realises that Michiru is trying to submerge herself into the ocean and never resurface― and it hits her hard. She's got half a mind to stop the girl, and half a mind to drown herself along, but she merely stands, watching the mop of wavy sea-green mane disappear into the ocean. Haruka watches the ocean claim Michiru for its own, finally.

But now she has to be brave― now she has to fight alongside the others to bring Crystal Tokyo (a useless, slandering myth) to life, before she follows Michiru. There will be no more of Neptune, should the next day come. A part of her has died along with her love- but the rest of her will fight. Fight, because that was what Michiru died for. Fight, because it is her destiny.

The last of the sun shimmers brightly, breaking apart the sky and the sea― and Haruka calls it her duty. There will be no more of Haruka, only Uranus.

* * *

_―The curse has come upon me._

* * *

AN: This was stuck in my mind for such a _long_ time and I didn't know how to write it- especially when it got to Haruka watching Michiru _sink_. Aargh- I think Haruka would have been stronger and let the ocean claim Michiru, before fulfilling her duty and then joining her lover meep D: (and also I have a headcanon that Michiru is pretty narcissistic, so the blindness gets to her more. But she's pledged herself to her duty, and so she decides that the best way to face this is through death.)

Reviews will be greatly appreciated!


	4. Counseling

Counseling

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: Michiru's mother sets her up for a counseling appointment.

AN: Ah- this was a long one- 2300++ words! But it was a little fulfilling to write- I've got so many things to do lately ugh D: I'm not sure about this story- I wanted it to turn out _sexy and seductive_ but I don't (and can't) do that, so. I've read so many stories of Haruka as the one to get into trouble and see a counselor, but for a change, Michiru's the victim and Haruka's the counselor (or vice versa).

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon!

Enjoy!

* * *

Haruka Tenou found herself in yet another one of those head-splitting _headaches_. The last client had been nothing but trouble- and so, so _shallow._ How (_just how-_) could someone actually be so narcissistic and delusional to think that they were being chased down by secret societies; when their eyes told nothing but long nights of watching mystery drama episodes, and that their 'evidence' was their _intuition_?

(Besides, she's only a counselor- not a dream catcher or a private detective.)

Sometimes she wondered why she was actually working as a counselor (her excuses run in a silly loop: "Yeah, the clinic's my roommate's, so I'm paying the rental fees."; "Ah, well, it pays."; "I owe my… friend a favour.") and shoving her passion for racing to a second priority. Still, rental fees in Tokyo are unenviable- and the small bit of allowance she is given is enough for her to last the month. So Haruka bears with the disturbing amount of people who visit the clinic each day.

She checked the next on her list- some girl called 'Michiru Kaiou'. Trying to focus on the name (and not the way the dot on the 'i' blurs into tiny little splatters of fuzz that dance around her vision), Haruka recalled- _ah, this was a very interesting case._ Michiru Kaiou- the name of a girl (just one year younger than Haruka herself) who was an aspiring violinist and artist. The little mermaid who played barefooted on stage and lulled her audience to a drowning melody of despair and nostalgia.

The girl who was drowning.

Her mother had phoned- muttered, whispered, hissed in a frantic state and insisted that her daughter be set up for an appointment. That was rather ironic and hilarious, because Haruka thought that Michiru Kaiou's mother should have been the one sent for counseling instead. She was rambling on and on about the girl's music and her constant aloofness (a term which doting mothers substitute for 'arrogance'), talking about how her daughter only cared for the beach and made weird ocean metaphors. In short, Michiru Kaiou was not interested in _boys_.

Which was rather ironic as the homophobic mother plead her case to Haruka Tenou- the counselor who was _not interested in specimens of the opposite gender._

Haruka had heard of Michiru Kaiou's music- it was volatile, expressive, _gushing_. It could be almost silent before it roared and came crashing down, a wall of water (or music?) washing over weary souls in the audience. Haruka would have loved to listen to Michiru Kaiou live, but her economical constraints made sure that she was working her ass off every day just to ensure her own existence. So she relied on the CD albums that her landlady (AKA roommate) always bought home.

It was no background melody- it demanded attention. It made sure that you were left wide-eyed and blank-faced after the songs were over. And it was painfully emotional for Haruka, who was forced to explore the same emotions of doubt, grief and angst in the same dull eyes of her clients. There were happier pieces, but they always ended on a withering note, as though Michiru Kaiou was placing a well-inked question mark at the end of "Happily Ever After".

Haruka really hoped that this Michiru Kaiou was not just another face with dull eyes.

"May I come in?" a voice said gently from the other side of the door.

"Please do."

The door was pushed open slowly, and Michiru Kaiou entered.

She was beautiful, Haruka acknowledged warily. But then again, she had seen many faces worthy of praise and compliment- only to be disgusted the second their lips opened. Her sea-green hair was not abnormal, but uncommon. Haruka wondered briefly if she had dyed it- but really, classical violinists with a penchant for composing miracles did not mix around with cheap dye.

"Kaiou-san, please have a seat."

"Thank you. I believe that you have been," here, Michiru Kaiou hesitated for a moment. "I believe that you have been expecting me- after Mother's frenzied call."

"We do expect our clients to turn up- after all the hassle undergone just to have an appointment," Haruka replied dryly, placing a hand on her appointment sheet.

"Ah, of course," Michiru Kaiou said, _laughingly_. "I meant that my case must have sounded intriguingly simple and boring after you've heard my mother speak."

The hair was probably naturally teal.

Michiru Kaiou continued, "I did not mean to bother you, or be a waste of your time. Mother was adamant that I visit a counselor, because my music was causing distress to my audience. I believe her exact words were… 'like a howling siren with a stuffed turkey as its soul'. She does not understand that depression is a motivating inspiration for most artists. I am not spared from this cliché."

Then again, it looked too pretty to be natural.

"And then," Michiru Kaiou said, an amused glint in her eyes, "-there is the problem of me turning down every single suitor that she has picked out for me. She believes that I am being too picky and fussy- at the ripe old age of twenty-two. So there- I cannot help but be apologetic for my mother's overly-worrisome attitude. If you do not mind, I shall leave now- seeing as you have a headache, and I, another concert to prepare for. Please do rest for the remainder of the hour."

And then, she stood up to leave. Haruka stared, stunned, before she started to chuckle. This girl- this lady- this Michiru Kaiou was _sly._ Sly _and_ politely deceptive. In the same way that she had pretended to be conversational and friendly, she had shut herself out without revealing too much information.

All those anecdotes and casual complaints were carefully made, no doubt, to distract Haruka. She was well-prepared before entering the arena; obviously, she had no intention of opening her heart to a stranger. A stranger who was supposed to be a professional at picking out intangible illnesses.

"Please, wait a moment, Kaiou-san," Haruka called out.

Michiru Kaiou stiffened- it was obvious that she was slightly disappointed that her plan had not worked out well. But when she turned to face Haruka, the same polite smile was fixed on her face.

Her eyes were pretty- but cold.

"Is there anything else, Tenou-san?"

"I have been expecting you. Your case is a very… intriguing one. But it doesn't sound simple or boring."

"Do you say that to every single client you have?" A quirk of the eyebrow- a change of strategy.

"Do you say that to every single counselor you meet?"

Her eyes narrowed, but the smile remained.

"Ah," Michiru Kaiou said and nodded. "Of course. You have my file- from my mother, no doubt?"

Haruka merely smiled back in the same way (dead and polite). "Please, have a seat."

An unspoken '_the session has yet to end'_ lingered in the air between the both of them. Michiru Kaiou hesitated- exasperation flitting across her face for a second before she graciously accepted the offer and walked back to the plushy chair.

"Will you tell me what my file contains?"

"General information about your previous counselors, and how every session went, your grades, the usual."

"The usual?" Michiru Kaiou giggled. "Really- Tenou-san, I must remind you that I do not read documents detailing information regarding other people on a regular basis."

Again- with the faked informality and casualness.

"Tell me then- what do you think 'the usual' would include?" Haruka suggested.

"Well, I guess… Hobbies? Likes and dislikes… _the usual,"_ Michiru Kaiou added teasingly.

Michiru Kaiou was unreadable.

Haruka raised her eyebrows, and leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk. "That's not fair."

"How is it unfair?"

"You were the one who was curious, in the first place."

Michiru Kaiou merely smiled. "You are trying to read me."

"That's what my job scope entails."

"I'm a little insulted, though. For one, am I really that uninteresting? Am I only another client?"

Haruka chuckled at Michiru's hurt face. "Am I only another counselor?"

"Touché."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Her hair colour was probably natural- what with the brilliant shade of teal her eyes were. And her heart-shaped(?) face, with a pair of thin lips. Michiru Kaiou was beautiful, and definitely a charmer. But she was so shut in and isolated, building walls around herself. Then again, most people would feel the same if they were forced to talk to a _shrink_.

And then, Michiru Kaiou leaned forward, imitating Haruka's posture- she smelled of… the sea- lightly peppered with saltiness. "So, Tenou-san, allow me to propose an idea."

"Hm?"

"Let's read each other. For fun. Nothing strictly work related. Just… just something to pass the time, since I'm sure that you wouldn't want to explore my inner mind palace of terrifyingly childish angst and unspoken sorrows."

"On one condition- call me Haruka."

"Consider that done, Haruka." Michiru winked, and giggled. "Then, call me Michiru."

"You've got yourself a deal, Michiru."

Michiru's cheeky grin faded away, and she took on a more defensive voice. "Haruka- I just want to make sure- to be certain of something. My files should mention that I have been involved in relationships-"

"Michiru," Haruka interrupted, not wishing to face an outwardly alert and guarded Michiru. "Is it true that your first counselor was an old dude who asked you out on a date the very first second he saw you?"

Michiru's eyes widened, and she laughed. "Did they write that in the files? That's very kind of them."

"Huh? Wait- what? Don't tell me that it was the other way round?" Haruka exclaimed.

It was only fair for Haruka to drop her defenses if she expected Michiru to do the same. It was only an hour, and she wanted the other lady to be as honest as she could within this duration.

"Maa, perhaps," Michiru chuckled sheepishly.

That didn't mean that Haruka wasn't going to read her, though.

Haruka made a face. "That's very insulting!"

"Oh?"

"You didn't ask me out for a date the very first second you saw me. Am I worse than an old counselor with white eyebrows?"

Michiru shook her head. "Oh, my! But your hair is on its way to becoming white, too!"

"Do you have a fetish for old people? You tried your best to leave before I could say anything!" The words came tumbling out- and Haruka almost forgot to read Michiru.

"He was very conservative and shy- I asked for a date, allowed him to stammer and yammer and stare in shock while I escaped. It didn't take more than a minute, if I remember."

"Such a charmer, Michiru."

Her eyes looked prettier now that they were less cold.

"Takes one to know one, Haruka."

Michiru tilted her head and stared straight at Haruka, her lips curving into a genuine smile that reached her eyes. Haruka stared back, and thought that it would be such a chore to have to read Michiru- picking apart every single word in her sentences and measuring every inch of her smiles. Haruka never liked poetry lessons- where she had to dissect and analyse her favourite poems- reducing them to nothing but propaganda.

"Ne, Haruka, tell me what you think about my… case."

"You're strange."

"If that isn't part of the analysis, then I don't want to hear it."

"Well… about your music- it's terribly heart-wrenching and I hate you for that; my roommate plays it on a loop every day. You're worried about something- at least, I think you're worried about something. I can almost hear your thoughts when I listen to your music.

"As for the distress that your mother feels, I'd like to think that your music has left her sentimental and emotional (probably guilty). She can't help but feel that if you stopped producing such expressive music, her heartache would stop. I'd like to think that she's being selfish. You're right about depression being a very motivating inspiration…

"I don't think that you need counseling. You need to talk to someone. You need something called a 'friend', Michiru." And then Haruka sighed. "I can't read you."

"What about the second part?"

"You don't want to talk about it. I don't want to hear you talk about it."

"Isn't that the very essence of a counselor's job?" Michiru was leaning a back a little now.

Haruka shrugged, and nodded. "You're upset that your parents would think of love as something that's exclusive to heterosexual couples, but you don't really want to have to rebut them. You're not interested in males, given your… record. Or you're unhappy that your parents are deciding on your life choices for you. Either way, your parents are breathing down your neck and you're tired of them doing so, but you love them too much to destroy your image as a perfect princess. You're exasperated, of course."

Michiru nodded thoughtfully, and Haruka added bitterly, "But I really can't read you- of course, I might be over-reading and factoring in my own experiences, but my final verdict is that you don't need to see a counselor."

"That's too bad. I like you, Haruka."

"Ah."

Michiru looked amused. "Honestly, I have just confessed my undying love to you, and all you can come up with is _that_?"

"I have to distribute my love to all my clients, Michiru. Now, now, are you going to dump me for another counselor?"

"I've learned my lesson- enough to know that counselors are all multiple-timers." Michiru gave a dramatic sigh. "And here I was, thinking that you were different."

Haruka glanced at the clock- the hour was almost up. "Hey, you still haven't told me about your analysis- what you read from me-"

"Till next time, Haruka."

"Next time?"

"You didn't think I would give up on a chance to seduce my promiscuous counselor, did you?" A pause, and then sincerely whispered, "I think I really like talking to you, Haruka."

"Just talking?" Haruka piped up, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Michiru giggled, "Don't push it too far, Tenou-san."

* * *

AN: Just like what I expected- major flirt fests. Geez.

Reviews will be greatly appreciated!


	5. Shopping Trip

Shopping Trip

Pairing: Haruka Tenou and Michiru Kaiou

Summary: Short drabble- where Michiru drags Haruka out because of a sales on art supplies.

AN: Alternative title would be 'guilt trip' XD this is very short, compared to the rest of the stories in the previous chapters.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon!

Enjoy!

* * *

She tells you to stop.

You find it ironic- stop, stop, stop- when all she does, is _go, go, go._ The staccato of your footfalls are making her sigh in exasperation. Angrily, Michiru turns to you as you pause beside a display.

"Will you stop doing that?"

"What?"

"Will you stop stopping?"

"That is oxymoronic, Michiru."

She rolls her eyes. "I rephrase. Will you stop pausing every few seconds to stare at something? We have a mission!"

"That is overly-dramatic," you grumble as she stalks forward.

Damned art sales. You were dragged out of the house, against your will, by a psyched mad woman (with green hair and who goes by the name of a talented violinist and painter), just to get to the sales. You stroll along, shuffling your feet as you glance at the displays around you. It gets on her nerves, and you're almost satisfied with the result.

(A part of you still feels that that _isn't_ enough, and the only way to placate your laziness would be to get Setsuna to turn back the gears of time and return you to that very morning, allowing you time to rush away before Michiru got to you.)

As you walk, you realise that Michiru has stopped in her tracks. Her head bowed, her fists by her sides and her slightly quavering shoulders are telltale signs of her being upset. You groan internally and place a hand on her shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

Her next words are barely coherent. "Go home, Haruka."

"Wait- what- _why_?"

She lets loose a shaky laugh. "It doesn't matter- I realise- It's selfish of me to ask you to come along-"

"Wait, Michi-" you pull her into your arms, but she pushes you away.

"It's okay. I shouldn't have been so self-centered… Haruka, please be honest with me."

"What? Michiru, you're not-"

"Do you hate this? Do you hate having to come along for art sales? Do you- do you tire of my concerts? Of my stupid gallery paintings?" She lowers her voice, face still hidden.

"No! Michiru- you know I'd never hate it! I love- I mean- it's very special! It's _you,_ Michiru! You shouldn't doubt me- I enjoy being near you and your art- it makes me understand myself!" You hurriedly say, tumbling over your words.

She shakes her head, and chuckles bitterly. "Go home, Haruka. I'll-I'll be fine."

You frown and pull her closer. "Michiru, I'm not going home. I'll stay and be good. I'll stop dragging my feet and acting so immaturely-"

"Oh?" She straightens her posture and turns to face you. "Really?"

You've been tricked, you realise, as she wags a finger in front of your face, reminding you to stick to your promise. Michiru giggles and skips away, leaving you grumbling as you realise you've fallen for her acting again.

You sigh- but this _is_ Michiru- so you'd just have to endure it for the day.

* * *

AN: Sly, sly Michiru~

Reviews will be greatly appreciated!


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